AKA: Purple Smoke and Broken Mirrors
by FrauLanda
Summary: What might happen if the electric shock Jessica suffered in AKA:Sin Bin, somehow reversed Jessica's immunity to Kilgrave's talents? Picks up during the delicious AKA:Sin Bin confrontation & will make little other reference to canon. Lighten up & just enjoy it! ;) Read at your own risk, Kilgrave is a trigger waiting to be squeezed - & I am all too happy to oblige.
1. AKA: Smoke and Mirrors

Hello Lovelies – I have not written in ages and this little wooden ditty below is unbeta'd, so please feel free to critique and point out any distracting typos.

I have been battling my shame at my utter fascination with David Tenant's Kilgrave and have finally succumbed to my desire to fill the interwebz with more content investigating the what-ifs in Kilgrave and Jessica's complex relationship. The last thing I am is a rape apologist; do not mistake me on that. I am, however, exceedingly interested in the morality behind Kilgrave's powers and his supposed love/obsession for Jessica. I do also love a bit of Stockholm exploration, and mildly rough and reluctant (but ultimately consensual) sexiness. If that's not your particular brand of kink, you may want to turn back now.

My fic obviously takes inspiration from the Marvel/Netflix series, Jessica Jones, and picks up during the AKA: Sin Bin episode. I have never read the source material comics and have no intention of following canon – I hope you can relax and roll with the minor deviations. The POV of this may shift according to my mood.

Lastly, I have a nasty habit of leaving works unfinished and my early-2016 resolution is to actually complete this one. The fic will probably be 4-6 chapters long. That said, reviews are my delight and wonderful motivation to continue. Review away – good or bad - I love all feedback! Happy New Year!

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The heavy echo of the antechamber door closing mixes with Jessica's splashing steps into the cold metal and glass box. Delicate hands belie the strength it must take to spin the wheel lock shut.

Kilgrave's surprise at her bravery in facing him gives way to a giddy excitement at sharing the same air again, the same cage. Looking her over with curiosity, he is the first to break the silence: "My feet are pruning," he offers simply. "What's that?" Kilgrave eyes the small white bag clenched in her fist.

"Food." She tosses the greasy bag lazily. It lands on the flimsy metal-frame bed with a dull thud. This is going to take some work…and patience.

"Smells fast." The wrinkle of disgust on his nose is real - still, he can't help but be mildly amused at her obvious attempt to insult his sense of taste.

"You're welcome," she chimes sarcastically, kicking little waves in the ankle deep water as she steps toward him, chin up and hips swaying.

"Are you not afraid that I'll touch you?" he whispers with a warning tone. The quickening of his breath and pulse is not lost on either of them.

"No. Afraid I'll touch you?" she counters, dropping her voice deliberately and tracing her finger along his collarbone. They are so close now. "I remember how you like to be touched".

"Isn't it bad enough to shock me? Now you want to toy with my emotions…?" His breathy pitch matches Jessica's and her proximity is absolutely intoxicating.

"You can have it," she taunts, "But I want you to beg for it". Before he has any time to process or prepare himself, Jessica's lightening fist crashes into his ear with deafening force. Kilgrave rounds on her out of instinct, shaking in anger.

"Arghhh!" he exclaims, "You will NOT –" the command falters and dies in his throat. He'd been dangerously close to revealing his hand, but recovers quickly with a sly smile. "That was foreplay," he mutters mischievously, "I'm all in."

"Then do something about it", she grunts, throwing him against the wall with ease. "Unless you can't compel yourself to get it up." Oh, she'll have to try much harder than that.

"After that performance," he beams with his arms wide and a nod to his trousers, "you have my full attention."

Jessica misses only a very short beat before sliding back into their banter, "Oh, you mean that _Slim Jim_ in your pants…? You're pathetic, you disgust me – all that power and you're too afraid to use it." Jessica advances on him again. "Too scared, like a little mama's boy. Huh, Kevin?" She slips into a mocking, singsong English accent, "Be a big boy for Mummy and Daddy."

Remembering that they are not alone, Kilgrave throws a glance at their audience beyond the glass - the slack-jawed lawyer and rolling camera, "I don't know what you mean, you have all the power here," he purrs. Jessica grasps his shirt collar and thrusts him on to the metal cot.

"Make me stop!" she huffs desperately. Powers or none, she's where he wants her to be.

"I won't hit a woman," he heaves wholesomely for the camera.

"No - but you'd rape her. Destroy her mind. Make her a murderer – say the words!" There's that damned word again, at least her patience is wearing thin. The unpredictability is captivating.

"Jessica, enough!" The lawyer's voice rings incessantly through the microphone but it does nothing to quell the fire in Jessica's fists as she lunges for his shirt again.

"I loved you. I gave you whatever you wanted," he coos innocently stoking her fury.

"All you ever gave me was shame," SMACK! Her hand strikes his cheek over and over again, serving as percussion to her rage. "And remorse!" SMACK "And pain!" SMACK! Kilgrave's eyes are losing focus with each assault but the power she unwittingly gives him is delicious.

"Stop or I'm going to hit the switch!" the lesbian warns benignly over the speaker. God, why won't that whiny wretch, leave them be! It's just getting good.

"Come on, you cowardly piece of shit!" Jessica roars, "You don't have the balls to fight me?"

He looks up at her, delighting in her frantic energy. "This isn't you, Jess, we were happy. Whatever you think I did to hurt you, I'm sorry," he says with half-sincerity. Jessica is truly past control now as she lifts him easily into the air and hurls him into the corner of the room with a sickening crunch.

Perhaps it might be time to call it a day after all, he muses, eardrums now ringing. Blood pools in his mouth and nose as he struggles to crawl up onto his knees. A glance up at the lawyer shows that the sniveling Patsy has now also arrived. Great, like he needs any more distractions for Jessica – at least Patsy would likely induce Jessica to ease up a bit. In his best, wounded voice, he cries for camera and spectators -

"What's the matter with you people? Are you just going to let this happen?" Patsy doesn't move an inch from the desk but the lesbian appears to have had her fill and leaves without further protest. "Please, somebody help me!" Kilgrave pleads in a performance worthy of an Oscar, as Jessica easily hoists him up, pinning his back against the glass. God, she is a vision – hair wild, lips swollen and both of their bodies humming with energy. Their ragged breaths swirl in the small distance between their noses. Everything smells richly of iron, water and adrenaline.

"Feels good doesn't it-?" he prods, pleased when her brow furrows in confusion practically on cue. "-Being in control…" he murmurs conspiratorially, his viper's tongue poised just behind fangs.

He drinks in the way her fierce eyes cloud at the terror of her worst fears being spoken aloud. With that, she raises a shaking fist and aims one more blow at his jawline. The world goes black.


	2. AKA: Turning Tables

This is just a small transition scene. Hope you enjoy, as this is where we depart from the show's version of events. Reviews are greatly appreciated!

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"Ok, c'mom Jess, up you get", Patsy's slight figure swims into Kilgrave's field of vision. She tries, in vain, to hoist Jessica's lifeless form from the puddle beneath.

It takes a moment for the cobwebs to clear and for Kilgrave to realize that dearest Patsy must have been forced to electrocute the cell to halt Jessica's attack on him. He feels absolutely battered - Jessica's fists left him woozy and weak but, thankfully, not wholly defeated.

"Stop," he croaks hoarsely. Patsy's slight posture squares and she immediately freezes with Jessica's limp form still hanging from her shoulder. "Stop," he repeats needlessly but with more life. "Lay her down, gently, mind you. Turn to face me."

Like a good little robot, Trish straightens and turns obediently; eyes darting continuously down as if to will Jessica awake.

"Don't just stand there. Help me up, for God's sake!" he hisses and Trish finds her hands reaching forward to steady a man she hates more than anything in the world.

Kilgrave leans against the cool glass, spattered with his own blood and spit, searching for what move to make next. Patsy fidgets nervously and opens her mouth to speak.

"Oh, do shut up!" He barks before she can make a peep – suddenly a delectable thought comes to mind.

"Right then, let's go Patsy. NO – you leave our Jess precisely where she is," Kilgrave wags a finger at Trish who had twitched in Jessica's direction. "There's a good girl, Patsy. Let's see if we can find anything sharp next door, shall we?


	3. AKA: Truth or Dare

Ooooh, I love to love and hate Kilgrave. Thanks for sticking with me! Reviews and even suggestions are incredibly welcome.

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"Jessica. Rise and shine, Jessicaaaaaaa." Kilgrave's purr overwhelms, much too loud and much too alive. Blinking aggressively, Jessica strains to make sense of the colors and figures before her.

Shit. Kilgrave is out. SHIT! Kilgrave is out of his cage and she, Jessica, is trapped on the wrong side of the glass. Shivering from having lain unconscious in 6 inches of water for over an hour, she wraps her arms across her body for warmth and approaches the smudged window.

"Give us a smile, Jess." Kilgrave teases.

"Fuck off," Jessica retorts, scanning the room.

Hogarth is nowhere to be seen, so who hit the switch? Kilgrave is perched leisurely before the microphone and Jessica barely registers that the camera's light is off before realizing (to her utter horror) that Trish is hovering at Kilgrave's shoulder. No, not hovering - is she combing the evil bastard's hair?

"You may have noticed that Patsy and I are getting acquainted, aren't we Patsy?" Kilgrave's drawl is magnified over the microphone and brings Jessica's throbbing head back to the present. "And I thought it time for us all to have a little chat." Patsy's perfume floats from her wrist as she sweeps the comb through his tousled hair. Kilgrave detects berries or something as equally girly and dull. Patsy is attractive in a vapid, superficial way – but not like the intense cashmere and jasmine that Jessica smelled of, or the dark exoticism in Jessica's features.

"First things first: Patsy, show Jessica what you found in the washroom, would you please?"

Trish's eyes brim with tears as her quivering hands set the comb down and produce a rather large and rather dangerous looking shard of mirror. The blood caked on Trish's knuckles, and the crumpled way she held the comb, confirm for Jessica that he must have forced Trish to smash the mirror with her own hands.

"Now, I want you both to hear and understand me. If Jessica breaks the glass, somehow escapes or otherwise attempts to harm me, in any way, Patsy will slit her pretty throat. Is that understood? Hmmm?" Both women nod, looking only at each other. "Good. Patsy, go and wash your hands clean and come straight back to clean up your sister's handiwork."

Trish obeys Kilgrave without hesitation and disappears down the hall – Jessica prays that she won't return.

"Jessica, eyes here please, thank you. My how the tables have turned, haven't they? It's all rather exciting – hand to hand combat, electrocutions – blatant sexual tension…" Kilgrave's unabashed glee causes bile to creep up Jessica's throat like heartburn.

"You mustn't be concerned that Patsy won't return. She will, I assure you. I've commanded that she stay with me at all times and have also forbidden her from trying to escape, hurt me, help you…and so on and so forth, as you can imagine. But back to the main business, at hand: you and me. Now, as stimulating as our little romp was, I think it's time we speak with our words, instead of our actions. At least for the time being-"

"I have nothing to say to you," Jessica spits through gritted teeth. "So kill me, or do whatever you want. Just get on with it and leave Trish out of it."

"Kill you? Honestly, Jessica, I really am growing bored of this charade. I told you – I love you and I will prove it to you. You cannot escape me anymore than you can extricate your powers, and you cannot avoid us anymore than you can dictate fate, which incidentally, is what we are: fate. What I _would_ appreciate is some small measure of cooperation and gratitude for my efforts. I thought things were going rather well at the old childhood home – but alas, it seems we need just a bit more time to build trust, don't we?"

Trish appears suddenly with a small first-aid tin in hand and quickly and silently sets about dabbing Kilgrave's bloodied and bruised face clean with alcohol swabs.

"Thank you, Patsy," Kilgrave hums, his eyes never leaving Jessica's, as she watches Trish's careful ministrations in disgust.

"Ok, Kevin, I'll play," Jessica acquiesces, injecting as much venom as she can into his name. "How do you propose that we build trust? Seems like a long shot, considering I hate you."

Kilgrave ignores her childish barb and leans forward while Trish affixes a butterfly bandage to his split brow, his long fingers interlaced beneath his chin. "We have our work cut out for us, indeed, but I would like to start with a quick game of truth or dare. I ask you for some truths and also reserve the right to dare, agreed?"

"Seems a bit one sided," Jessica grumbles, as she plops down atop the metal bed in more-or-less acquiescence.

"Splendid! Truth #1!," Kilgrave speaks closely into the microphone in his best game-show host imitation. "What was your fondest memory of our relationship?"

"Leaving you for dead," she replies in her best monotone.

"Right then, Jessica, I know honesty isn't always easy for you so I will give you that one. _Just_ that one, mind you. Any more more sass and Patsy just might have the sudden urge to cut out her tongue to pay for yours – do not test me." Kilgrave let the resulting silence sit for a long beat before continuing on.

"Truth #2: Did you really find our time together so detestable? Bloody hell, we took trips to Europe, ate in Michelin Star restaurants and stayed in five-diamond resorts! Hardly seems a chore, after all?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Jessica screeches, already unable to control her temper. "You help me captive in my own mind and body! For months, not a single thought in my head was my own, so – YES – every single moment with your arrogant ass was a waking nightmare."

"Are you sure about that, Jess?" he admonishes, clicking his tongue, eyes still transfixed and holding Jessica's defiant gaze. "I remember more than a few moments that you seemed to enjoy very much. So much so, in fact, that you begged me to never let them stop. I never commanded you to say those things-"

"Stop!" Jessica shouts, heat rising in her cheeks, memories returning unbidden.

"If you recall, I never explicitly commanded you to kiss me the way you did…with such ardor," he continues, without hearing her protests. "Every time you scratched your nails down my back or screamed my name in the throes of lust…"

"I sais STOP!" Jessica screams, angry tears beginning to stream down her face, too humiliated to even glance at Trish.

"It was because _you_ wanted to." His voice punctures the cell, washing over her, aided by the loudspeaker. " _You_ , Jessica Jones, you ached for me. You ached to have my mouth on your mouth, you ached for me between your legs and you ached for me in your very soul-"

"SHUT UP!" Jessica bellowed, reaching down to pry the metal bed from where it was bolted to the floor and hurl it in Kilgrave's direction. The twisted heap collides mightily with the glass, leaving a spider-web crack pattern spiraling out at the place of impact.

In an instant, the entire building is plunged into silence, except for her ragged breaths. Jessica watches helpless, rage immediately forgotten at the sight of Trish holding the mirror shard shakily at her throat.

"Please. Please make her stop," comes Jessica's pained whisper. Crimson blooms from the shallow cut, as the shard pushes deeper, slowly approaching Trish's artery.

"What's that Jessica?" Kilgrave coos coolly, his own rage now barely contained.

"Please, Kilgrave, K-Kevin, ask her to stop."

"What is it worth to you, Jessica. Is it worth a dare?" The cruel game is alive in his voice once more.

"YES!" she squeaks, "yes, anything!"

"Very well. That's enough, Patsy. Lower the blade – don't drop it," he commands, the authority almost palpable in his voice. "Help me open this bloody door."

Jessica watches as the pair disappear briefly from sight and listens to their struggles to open both the antechamber and cell door. With a low creak, they are finally visible again as silhouettes in the doorway.

"Let's all try to remain calm and take a breath," Kilgrave practically whispers. Jessica expels a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and takes a purifying gulp of air in. Even from eight feet away the smell of Kilgrave sends images rushing to her already overwhelmed psyche. He still smells of expensive soap, lavender - impeccable cleanliness – even with the perspiration beading on his brow. Trish also takes a breath at Kilgrave's side.

Kilgrave notices all of this, including Jessica's subtle reaction to their renewed closeness, and wonders idly if the power of suggestion is causing Jessica to follow his orders unknowingly.

"Right – so, a dare it is, then." Kilgrave saunters a few feet into the cell, hands casually in pockets. His feet resume their former pruning almost immediately. "Come here, Jessica," he bids softly, fingers outstretched to her.

Jessica, feeling the old familiar numbing sting of his voice, steps hesitantly but compliantly toward him. How could she have been so stupid to bring him here, to make him so angry?

Kilgrave can hardly believe his luck – who would have thought that one sister-figure-death-threat would put Jessica in such an obliging mood? Jessica places her trembling hand in his, and Kilgrave relishes in a much more pleasant brand of electricity than Jessica last sought to bestow upon him. Feeling angry and brazen, Kilgrave pulls her close and brings his hands to hover over hair before settling softly on her cheeks. "Jessica Jones, I dare you to _try_. Once more, I want us to give it - to give _us -_ a try. Will you do this? Tell me you want to try."

"I want to try," Jessica responds quickly.

"You do?" Kilgrave's eyes light up cautiously, a small laugh escaping him. "Truly, Jessica – will you give it a go? Not just to protect Patsy –?" Kilgrave is struggling to keep all earnestness out of his voice.

"Yes. I will try." The voice floating from her lips hardly feels like Jessica's own, but the feeling of claustrophobia is all too recognizable, though not as all-consuming as it once was.

Kilgrave feels it too and, perhaps, sees a glimmer of something within her eyes. He pulls her face closer to his – searching.

"Jessica – don't toy with me." Jessica's only response is to blink. A shadow of pain slowly creeps over her eyes – no, this can't be happening again.

"Oh, come off it!" Kilgrave scoffs, taking a step back from her. "You can't possibly think I'd fall for such a trick? What've you got planned? Tell me, or Patsy will gouge out an eye."

"My plan was to get you to confess on camera. I didn't think you'd escape from the hermetic chamber. I – I don't know what happened," comes her reluctant reply.

"You expect me to believe that feel you my commands?" he breathes, not allowing optimism to take root yet.

"Of course I feel them, you prick!" Even in Jessica's conflicted mind, she is confused by the stupidity of the question. If only she could snap his scrawny neck and not risk harm to Trish.

"Stay there, don't move, the both of you," he calls out to Trish and Jessica. Jessica's feet are lead.

Kilgrave begins pacing in the shallow water, now, muttering quietly to himself. "Fascinating. But what caused the shift? What could possibly have changed…?"

It is then that he again notices the water lapping at his ankles and the realization dawns on him. "The water – the wire! Ah, yes! It must have been the shock. The shock must have reversed… Yes, that's it…Yes, must have been the shock…" he rambles reverently, finally allowing hope to bloom.

Kilgrave grasps Jessica's shoulders pulling her so close that their faces are mere centimeters apart. "Jessica, I want you to tell me the truth – did you know that killing Reva somehow left you immune to my compulsion?"

Jessica's world starts to spin again and her tongue betrays her once more, "What? I—no. No, I didn't know," she answers lamely, feeling defeated for the millionth time.

"Cat's out of the bag now, I'm afraid, innit? Not to worry, however, as I'm fairly certain that we're back in business. Just need to test it." Kilgrave's joy is infectious and terrifying at the same time.

"Test, what - how?" Jessica asks, not really wanting to know the answer.

With a wicked gleam in his eyes and a slow smile spilling across his lips, Kilgrave croons two tiny words:

"Kiss me."

Before she can think, breathe, fight or fly - Kilgrave closes the small distance between them and in a whirl of purple smoke, the heat of his presence and the soft sting of Kilgrave's stubble on her chin - Jessica Jones is lost again.


	4. AKA: Devil's Deal

To the gorgeous few of you who have reviewed or PM'd me – I thank you! It is incredibly fun to hear feedback. Long live Kilgrave!

Hot. It's much too hot and the room is made too small by his pervading hold on her. His lips feel charging and familiar. No – she doesn't want it. It's _wrong_! He is evil and disgusting and she is going to kill him, she _must_ kill him…It's – he -there's so much! She can't concentrate but for the deep, plum haze floating behind her eyelids and the consuming pull and sickly, known fragrance of him.

When the kiss is finally broken, Jessica isn't sure if the low whimper is hers or Kilgrave's. What she _is_ sure of is that she'd like to tear his voice box from his loathsome throat with her bare hands. It is with that end in mind that she curls her powerful fingers around his neck. _This is for the best…_

"Enough! Stop, Jess-" he croaks hoarsely just before his airway is cut off. That foggy feeling struggles to consume Jessica once more. Her hands loosen their grip infinitesimally, and the war within shakes her whole body violently before her arms swing leaden to her sides. This is different to before – it's worse. At least before his dominance felt reliably inescapable – whatever control he is exerting over her now is the bare minimum, leaving her fighting futilely.

Kilgrave lets out a low whistle, massaging his throat and grinning satisfactorily. "That's my girl, Jessica!" He delights appreciatively and runs his thumb softly over her bottom lip. "You mustn't pout now," he soothes. "Everything will feel easier – I promise you – it will be so much better now that we truly understand one another."

Jessica's heart plummets into her stomach. For the first time in weeks, she has absolutely no idea what to do next. How will she make things right for Hope?

Kilgrave keeps his eyes trained on Jessica and calls over his shoulder, "Did you bring a car with you Patsy?" Jessica had almost forgotten that Trish was still planted behind Kilgrave and on dangerous ground.

"Yes," the reluctance in Trish's reply is painful for Jessica to hear.

"Brilliant. You may leave your keys on the desk on your way out and walk home. No cabs. You may speak to no one. Go back to your little life – Once you exit this building you will realize that this was an odd dream. You have no clue where Jessica is and no idea what happened to your vehicle. Tell no one about any of this. Ever."

Trish's eyes fall vacant and she turns on her heel without a last look at her best friend. Jessica watches helplessly through the glass as Trish sets her car keys next to the microphone next door and walks down the hallway and out of sight.

"That's better, isn't it," Kilgrave captures her attention once more. "Now we can focus on each other and you needn't worry about being responsible for Patsy's gruesome suicide. You know how I hate stooping to those measures, Jessica. So, do try to not force my hand. I think we've had quite enough dramatics for one day."

"Whatever. Fine. What's next in your grand plan?"

"Home, of course," he scoffs. "But first, we need to define some precautions. Although, I still have no intention of controlling you – it is important that we allow ourselves the opportunity to spend some meaningful time together. We can't very well do that with you trying to kill me the whole time, can we?"

"Depends on your definition of 'meaningful time'," she seethes.

"Ah, Jess, protest all you want – but even you cannot deny, especially after that _magnetic_ kiss, that you obviously have feelings for me –"

"The only feeling I have ever had for you was revulsion. The rest was a sick fantasy constructed- " Kilgrave raises a warning hand to silence her indignation and continues on as if she'd never opened her mouth:

"As such I want us to agree on something – no threats or tricks: I commit to you that I shall not harm your beloved Patsy, so long as you remain with me. Now, I realize that I am not an inherently patient man, but I can endeavor to become more patient. Remember that I am just as stubborn as you…"

Jessica simply stares up at him, arms folded across her chest.

"Have it your own way, Jessica, but the peace offer stands. We both know that I am no match for your strength. And we've just deliciously proven that you no longer have a defense against my influence – so to avoid an impasse we must do our best to mend fences as the plebeians do – without the use of our gifts; or, at least in my case, with limited use. It is my hope that these measures will soon no longer be necessary. However, at least for now, I must request a few small concessions…"

"Naturally, what is love, after all, without some romantic mind control?" she interjects unable to stomach his bullshit any more.

"Precisely," Kilgrave challenges with wickedness dancing in his eyes, becoming increasingly uninterested in placating her childish protestations. "So, for my first request: if you do, indeed, choose to accompany me, you may _not_ use your strength to injure or attack my person at all. Any blows we trade will need to be à layour charming wit, which you've already proven to be quite confortable with..."

"Bite me," Jessica quips, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, I'd like to Jessica, but that will come later." The corners of Kilgrave's eyes crinkle as another playful grin radiates over his features. "Secondly, and obviously, you must give up this tiresome quest to surrender me to the police. We're going to be together now, so there's really no point to trying to expose me as some sort of criminal."

Jessica's thoughts turn to Hope. Would Hogarth continue their work to procure Hope's freedom? How much longer can Hope survive in that terrible place, with her terrible past weighing on her conscience...?

"Lastly," Kilgrave is still rambling on, "you will not attempt to contact Patsy, the Sapphic lawyer or anyone else who might threaten or target me. Do you agree to my terms?"

"Do I have much of a choice?" Jessica spits.

"Of course you do, though I remind you that some choices might produce less desirable consequences, than others. That's the whole point, Jessica. All I want, more than anything in the world, is for you to choose me because you finally admit to yourself that you want me just as much as I want you. We are a pair; you and I." Kilgrave's thinly veiled warnings hover in the air, chilling Jessica's already cold and damp frame.

"What you propose isn't choice – it's emotional extortion," she challenges, "How could I possibly refuse, when you threaten Trish, and the entire general public, for that matter?"

"I suppose that's all a matter of perspective isn't it? Besides, as I've told you, I'm confident that you'll admit your true feelings in due course; we just need to create an environment where you feel comfortable to do so. What say you, Jessica Jones? Will you be brave enough to accept my challenge?" Kilgrave extends his hand smoothly and assuredly, as ever, with his gaze striking Jessica's very core.

Jessica glances down at the monster's well-manicured hand and finds his cool confidence enraging. She could break each of his vicious fingers with the slightest of pressures. She imagines the utter terror that would spring to his arrogant eyes, as each bone crunches and splinters beneath her powerful grip. Compound fractures tear his flesh apart and sound like music to her ears…

Alas, she cannot act on her fantasy – the risk would be too great. Could she kill him here, now? Snap his neck before he gets another word out? Perhaps…but what she needs is time - Time to think on how she might skirt around his influence and be rid of him once and for all.

Cursing herself, she brings her hand to meet his unyielding and warm grasp. Kilgrave shakes her hand triumphantly, and brings her knuckles to his lips and plants a delicate kiss there. To Jessica, the burning kiss weighs as heavily as thirty pieces of silver.

"Clever girl," he hums, "A wise choice, indeed." Keeping her hand firming clasped in his own, he leads her from the prison they'd shared both separately and together. "Follow me," comes his velvet instruction, as he strides to retrieve Trish's keys and usher the pair of them out of the building.

Jessica's feet follow Kilgrave's lithe figure obediently, though she knows they carry her back to hell - For no good can come of making a deal with the devil…


	5. AKA: Home Sweet Home

Many thanks to those of you who have offered encouragement to continue! If you've enjoyed reading even half as much as I have enjoyed writing this so far, then I am a happy lady.

I have ever-so-slightly edited the latter portion of Chapter 4 (AKA: Devil's Deal) to clarify that Jessica's choice to both go with Kilgrave and also refrain from further harming him was, in fact, technically her own choice and not a result of a Kilgrave-command.

Lastly, apologies for the long wait for this one – I didn't want to publish anything rushed or unworthy. I work 50-60 hours a week and go to school, so it's been tough to carve out writing time but I hope you find this next short installation appeasing. I have already started on the next chapter hope to have a much shorter wait for 6.

An inescapable hollowness spreads through Jessica's very core as street signs fly by. The city shrinks into the distance behind her and she wonders when, or if, she'll see Trish again. Two left turns, then a right turn and another left…Emory Street, Landmark Drive, Birch Street, Higgins Drive, Cobalt Lane…everything is precisely in focus but hazy at the same time – different yet the same. And after what feels like centuries of agonizingly slow seconds, they are back again.

Kilgrave pulls Trish's car smoothly in front of the home Jessica shared with her parents, with her brother… But this street no longer offers solace. Kilgrave has contaminated every facet of her life; even her childhood is tainted with him now. The breaks of the luxury vehicle are as silent as the journey had been.

"Shall we?" His voice shatters her reverie and she watches him as he exits the vehicle, walks over to her side and opens the car door for her. Jessica ignores him and surveys the street she had skateboarded down a thousand times. The place is a ghost town, an eerie mess of yellow caution tape, horrifically scorched pavement and a single patrol car. Colored lights pierce the thin fog, reflecting off the sheen from recent rainfall. Trish had explained how Simpson had been injured, of course - how could Jessica have expected to find anything different…? Still, this wasn't Jessica's home, it couldn't be. It must be another dream, a nightmare she can wake from. Poor Mrs. De Luca.

Poor Mrs. De Luca…in truth, Jessica had always disliked the woman. Even as a child, Jessica had found De Luca to be nosy and superior. She had been the established gossip of the neighborhood and spread hurtful rumors indiscriminately.

But she certainly hadn't deserved to die, had she?

With the woman's recent slights against Jessica's family looming fresh, Jessica struggles to feel genuine sympathy for the loss of De Luca; which only serves to make her feel guiltier, still.

Yet despite this, despite the fact that Jessica should feel responsible, for now, the scene before her inspires only anger and indifference.

Kilgrave waits at the open front door looking back at Jessica, gauging her reaction. She looks atrocious – they both do. He tongues the split in his lip, savoring the small, sharp sting – like a paper cut. She had been magnificent, all strength and fire, just as the night he had first stumbled upon her. A contrast, indeed, to her current demeanor. He knows that they both need to rest, but he is eager to coax more from her. After her little kidnapping stunt, he'd known that enticing her back would be half the battle, yet somehow he'd won it so easily. Almost too easily –

Granted he had taken a literal beating for it, and it had been so deliciously worth it to witness her in her element again and see her willingly before him now. He can taste her resolve beginning to falter, the next few days would be crucial for them. Soon she would admit the thing she was trying so hard to resist. Jessica's gaze shoots up to his, as if she can hear his thoughts, challenging him.

"I can carry you over the threshold, Jessica, if you'd like…?" he needles, feigning impatience. She rolls her eyes and stomps past him, making a beeline for the bar cart in the dining room.

"Jessicaaaa, have you any idea what time it is?" Kilgrave scolds.

"No. My phone is back at the CDC, thanks to you…"

Jessica yanks the stopper from the crystal decanter of whiskey and takes a massive, unapologetic swig. The expensive liquor fans smoothly and instantly throughout and she welcomes the familiar relaxation infiltrating each capillary. Damn, this booze was quality – at least the maniac had good taste.

Another gulp. She turns to face her enemy standing lightly in her foyer, which he somehow manages to make seem like his foyer. As usual he exudes that infuriating entitlement of simply owning every room he enters. At least he looked like shit, rumpled clothes and a bruised, hamburger face. Hopefully it hurts as bad as it looks.

They stand there that way, playing a mental game of chicken. Fifteen feet apart, but that buzzing is there again…that invisible thread between them, which never allows her to be truly free of him. The clock in the hall ticks stoically and Kilgrave's quiet breathing is frequently interrupted by the sloshing of the whiskey as Jessica tips the crystal back for another drag.

Precisely in time with what must be her tenth shot, the spell is broken when the doorbell chimes loudly. Jessica sputters, startled, sending a fine amber spatter before her. The standoff is over, Kilgrave titters and moves to open the door.

Jessica slams the decanter back on the cart. From her vantage point, she can't see who's at the door or make out the hushed tones of their visitor.

"Darling?" Kilgrave calls sweetly, "Come here please -" Jessica seethes at the pet name and squashes unpleasant memories of candlelit dinners in Barcelona and Parisian breakfasts in bed with the psychopath. Once again, her feet take her to Kilgrave of their own accord and the short journey puts her face to face with a police officer.

"Afternoon, Ma'am" the officer greets. "Your husband tells me that neither of you were at home two nights ago – that a fact?"

Kilgrave's smirk returns at the mention of "husband," and he snakes his arm around Jessica's slim waist, resting his hand possessively at her ribs, pulling her flush to his side. Flashes of purple and midnight black spark in her mind's eye. His touch is unyielding and it strikes equal parts fear and nausea into her core.

"That is correct, Officer," Kilgrave offers innocently, "Isn't it, my darling?" He squeezes Jessica's ribs in warning.

Had it really only been two days? That can't be right…And what the heck is Kilgrave doing, why hadn't he just sent the cop away? Not having any choice due to Kilgrave's command to not threaten him with police, she follows his lead reluctantly.

"Um, yeah. That's right. We left at about seven, I think." Jessica can smell the whiskey on her own breath and fights the tipsy feeling suddenly threatening to consume her. She'll need to keep her wits about her, otherwise Kilgrave will have no qualms about using the cop as a pawn.

"Yes, or perhaps a quarter till?" Kilgrave stares down at Jessica, as if recalling a lascivious evening. "We were a bit distracted, you see, with it being our anniversary and our first weekend in the new house." Jessica tries hard not to think on the many insignificant "anniversaries" they actually had celebrated together. Kilgrave sought any excuse to take them to lavish restaurants and spend hours in bed: one month since they'd met, one month since he'd professed his love, one week since she'd moved in with him…

"I see." The cop scribbles away on his notepad, eyeing Kilgrave's injuries suspiciously. "And how is it that you came about the bruises and cuts on your face, sir?"

"Oh, this -?" Kilgrave dismisses, waving nonchalantly at his destroyed face. "A bit of lively sparring. It's nothing - you should see the other bloke."

"Uh –huh? And neither of you noticed anything out of the ordinary yesterday?"

"Nnnnnope." Kilgrave offers, ending his short reply with a resounding "pop". He was enjoying this far too much.

"What about you ma'am," the officer needles, "Can you recall anything that might help us piece together the blast."

"No. Sorry. We weren't here," Jessica repeats through gritted teeth, willing the man to just leave already. The contact between her and Kilgrave is making her increasingly uncomfortable and she can't decide if her skin is crawling or simply on fire.

The police officer looks at her, too long and too suspiciously. "Have you been drinking, ma'am?"

Not caring anymore, Jessica sighs and unleashes on the cop, "Yeah, asshole, I've been drinking, in my own home. Is that a prob-"

"Right, that's enough of this then-"Kilgrave interrupts pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger in abrupt impatience and trains his gaze on the cop. "For the last time, we weren't here, you whelp. My face isn't bruised and our alibi is perfectly ironclad. This investigation is complete. Go back to the station, and write a report beyond reproach. There is no need to call on us again. Understood?"

The police officer blinks stupidly, flipping through the pages of his notepad. "Yes, sir. That ought to do it. Thank you for your time, sir, ma'am-"

Kilgrave does not wait for the officer to turn and leave before relinquishing Jessica and closing the door in the confused man's face.

"Jessicaaaa," Kilgrave tsks, clicking his tongue and putting his hands in the pockets of his wrinkled trousers, "you almost ruined all our fun because of your drinking. You can't possibly enjoy being that bloody pissed the whole time, can you?"

"My bad - sorry I wasn't as convincing at lying about your killing my neighbor as you'd hoped – which, incidentally, is prick move #75 that you've pulled! And yeah, I do like being drunk. At least then, there's a chance that I can, just maybe, avoid you running around in my head!" Jessica practically crawls up the stairs, praying that her speech doesn't sound as slurred to him as it does to her own ears.

"Stop, Jessica." He commands.

She plops promptly down on one of the treads, facing him with her elbows on her knees. He steps to the foot of the stairs, searching her bowed faced, "I am charmed to hear that I figure so prominently in your thoughts," he raises a hand to quiet her protest in its tracks, "Understand, Jess, I got rid of that old bat for you. I did what you, and your righteous morality, could never allow yourself to do. It was for you, Jess, it's all for you, and you know that..." His unnerving tenderness in so confusing, "You don't really care about that nitwit next door, do you? "

"No…Yes! No – I dunno," comes Jessica's defeated reply.

"Tell me the truth." he commands deliberately.

"No." she admits, hating herself for it, "But you can't just go around killing people."

"I remind you, again, that I've never actually laid a hand on anyone" he corrects, "The battleax assembled the bomb herself and only set it off because soldier boy came snooping." Jessica is too tired and drunk to even argue and just studies her faintly bruised knuckles.

"But, point taken," Kilgrave concedes, "I promise to not blow up anymore neighborhood busy-bodies. I swear on my wretched mum's life. Now, let's get you upstairs and into bed." He climbs toward her and moves to help her to her feet but Jessica recoils sharply.

"Back off!" she roars, "I told you not to touch me!"

"I was only trying to help you, Jess-" he sighs, irritated.

"Yeah, right," she snorts, feeling brazen. "I remember how helpful you are. Always so quick to help me decide what to do, or eat, or drink, or wear, when to sleep…or even what to think or when to fuck!"

"Yes, yes, yes – we've been here before. We all know what a terrible meanie I am. Can we just dispense with another consent lecture, Jessica?" he drawls, continuing up the stairs with a look back at her angry frame.

"No, we can't, KEVIN! You want me to stay here with you, play house and put up with your bullshit? Then I choose what happens with my body. Me! Got it?" she huffs, staving off another wave of fatigue.

"I can hear you without you shouting at me," he placates.

"That's not an answer," she growls, as she shoves past him to flop facedown on the tiny bed in her room.

Kilgrave leans against the doorframe, appreciating the curve of her legs and ass. "Are you not going to take your boots off?" he purrs.

Jessica mumbles defiantly into the pillow, though Kilgrave can make out a few choice expletives.

"Well, I will be in the shower if you'd like to join…" he offers, only half joking.

She answers with a middle finger thrust in his direction.

His dark whisper of "Sweet dreams" is the last thing she hears before the blackness consumes her.

Sunlight bursts through the window and bores through Jessica's eyelids and into her very skull. She'd always hated those flimsy curtains her mother hung – Kilgrave might've at least improved upon that particular feature during his obsessive restoration project.

What time is it? What day is it? How long had she slept? Jessica isn't sure of much beyond her pressing desperation for the restroom. Feeling acutely aware of her mild hangover, she swings her legs over the edge of the bed and is unpleasantly greeted with the sight of bare flesh. She'd fallen asleep fully clothed – she hadn't been too drunk to remember that. Looking around, yesterday's jeans and Tshirt are nowhere to be found. God, he is such a creep, she shudders. She'd give anything to go back in time with the knowledge that she'd been exempt from his influence. She might have been able to do something, anything, to scare him into confessing his part in Hope's tragedy…But at least now he'd be focused solely on Jessica and not on wreaking havoc on the rest of the damned county.

Pulling a robe off the back of the door and throwing it her shoulders, Jessica hops over to the closet to find something to wear for the day – boy, she really needs to pee!

Ignoring the plum and aubergine wardrobe he'd obviously hoped she'd wear, she yanks a plain white t-shirt, black jeans and mis-matched bra and underwear from the back of the small closet.

Still bouncing from foot to foot, she peaks her head out into the bright hallway – the coast is clear – and runs to the family bathroom at the end of the hall, shrugging out of the robe. After taking care of her most urgent need she turns the hot tap on in the shower, and revels in the clean steam that slowly billows in the small room.

She brushes her fringe from her eyes, and confronts the ghost in the mirror before her. She'd easily lost close to 10 pounds over the past few weeks and her usually muscular frame looks fragile. Then again, she can't actually recall the last time she'd eaten solid food. It must've been a few days ago, at this point…which probably more than explains the dark circles under her eyes and paler-than-usual complexion. "Ok, Jones, get your shit together," she self-admonishes, half hoping her reflection might talk back. It doesn't however, so she steps in the shower to wash the previous day's sins away.


End file.
